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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28013892">mirror all the ways i'm loved</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/shepherd/pseuds/shepherd'>shepherd</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M, Self-Doubt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:03:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,105</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28013892</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/shepherd/pseuds/shepherd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As he bowed his head to rest against Ignis’, his hair tickling Ignis’ temple, his breath left his overworked lungs in a terrible shudder. He squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced. “It should have been me,” he declared. “I should have been the one to suffer.”</p><p>Written for day five of Gladio Week on twitter, for the prompt "If I can't protect you, what good am I?"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Gladio Week</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>mirror all the ways i'm loved</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A ghost wandered the cramped and quiet halls – back and forth, to and fro, and on the bottom bunk of an empty bed Ignis pretended to sleep.</p><p>These days it was difficult to find the energy for anything but uneasily dozing. Even weeks after the crashing waves tore at Altissian streets Ignis found himself easily disorientated and tender across his weary body. Bruises and scars littered his skin. Ignis kept all he could hidden with borrowed hoodies and his cheap, hastily purchased visor. He slept with it tucked into his pockets and nestled within Gladio’s hoodie. It was the only way he could sleep at all.</p><p>He dared not consider what had become of his face. When asked Prompto had been coy, but Ignis pried the truth from unwilling lips. The skin around his eye was pink and shiny, as if reluctant to begin the process of healing. It didn’t come as a surprise - when touched, it sparked a stabbing pain and the briefest burn of ancient magic. Feeling the extent of the damage left him breathless and tired beyond all his years. Never in all his life had he been so exhausted, even when sprawled upon that cursed Altar.</p><p>But sleep was yet beyond him – Ignis had long struggled sleeping alone.</p><p>For months now it had been his brothers close by his side, each packed tightly into their tent or lounging freely across modest hotel mattress. For years before it had been Gladio in his cosy apartment, skin intimately warm within his sheets, with heavy and loving arms cast across his shoulders. Pleasant days. Kinder days, and here they were – fractured and aching, strewn and broken across the floor. Relentless gods dug their incessant claws into their flesh.</p><p>With no clue if it were night or day Ignis lay alone, and Gladio’s heavy footfalls frequently passed him by, echoing his doubt.</p><p>Even countless hours later the stench of the malboro lingered. A shower was Ignis’ greatest fantasy but he could only afford a quick change of clothes and a hasty wipe down with a soaked cloth. His old trousers stank terribly and stagnated in the very bottom of their waste bag, lost within the armiger. Now only his current pair remained, worn down by several careless washes in rivers. It was good enough for him – filthy and muck had stained his ankles and dried in his hands, stuck within the creases, cracking with time. Ignis swore he could even taste it upon his tongue.</p><p>There was only so much eh could do. Fishing out his last toiletries he cleaned his teeth hard enough for his gums to bleed, struggling to find his toothbrush again as it clattered loudly into the porcelain bowl. It took every piece of his energy to do even that. Forgoing a shower, he soaked his hair and face, roughly towelling it dry. The shower cubicle was cramped and with the rattling and rumbling of the train there was too much risk. Gladio would have been furious at his carelessness should he have fallen alone.</p><p>Even after his reprimand their bonds remained tense. Their perceptions had finally shifted but little in their behaviour had changed as they slunk shamefully back onto the train. Ignis took a twisted form of pity. It was the remnants of guilt and shame that scattered them, he knew. Prompto had spent a while perched by his side, insisting they share a small bottle of wine he swiped from the closed bar, and rambled endlessly about nothing. The bitter cold as it ghosted through the window, the lingering stares of the curious passengers. Texts from Iris and photos from Talcott, and their drifting, groundless companions. <em>Noct is out by the car,</em> Prompto told him awkwardly, taking a deep gulp. Ignis didn’t ask, and Prompto did not clarify. <em>Gladio is –</em></p><p>Prompto exhaled harshly and took another generous mouthful. It was the last of their drink. Ignis didn’t breathe a word. He thought only of the furious ocean waves and the beast that riled them, the fire that spread within his veins only to become ice within his eye. It was never far from his thoughts.</p><p>Shortly after Prompto had left – <em>gonna, uh. Gonna check on Noct. You gonna be alright?</em> – the footsteps began. Back and forth, hesitating now and then outside Ignis’ door. Half a dozen times by his uncertain count and Ignis could only laugh softly into his pillow. There was no energy left within his shell to stand, to fondly call Gladio inside. Instead he closed his eye and waited for the wars that Gladio ceaselessly, pointlessly waged to come to an end.</p><p>Ignis wasn’t entirely sure if he slept. Time passed fleetingly in the darkness and in such a cold place harsh windows billowed through the open window, prickling his bare skin. Such sensation enveloped him in dreams of the water.  There was no sunshine to feel the faltering of the daylight and so Ignis remained timeless, assaulted by memories and aching pains as the train rumbled towards their fates.</p><p>At some point he was roused from a living memory by a gentle touch to his cheek. His awareness returned slowly – the room was chilly, but the wind was suddenly gone. For a moment Ignis thought they had arrived, but the train continued to rattle and rumble beneath. It agitated his queasy belly. The window must have been shut.</p><p>With a soft moan Ignis opened his eye to find the same dull and oppressive darkness. Only his dreams bore colour now – the stormy grey of the sky, the deep red of Lunafreya’s blood. Ignis’ heart seized with pain and rage, faced again with his loss each time he woke, but a tenderness guided the hand. Callouses soothed his skin. Lying dazed, Ignis was momentarily incapable of words.</p><p>He lay tangled in thin sheets and shivering. Each breath was unsteady, chest tight, but upon inhaling he caught a familiar and warm scent, more powerful than the murky touch of water. Those callouses were intimate, knowing, reaching past the silence that filled the room.</p><p>“Gladio,” Ignis said decisively, voice slurring as he shook away his slumber, and the hand paused.</p><p>It had been quite some time since they were alone. Since they had departed the mainland there was always a body or two between them, Noctis’ aching silence and Prompto’s desperate nattering, and the yawning chasm of Altissia felt like a hundred, a thousand miles between them. With naught else to do Gladio made his discontent known through his uncharacteristic sullenness, his stomping feet and foul curses. It was a childishness that Ignis hadn’t seen since they were teens, and a nagging part of Ignis that simply wanted to lay down and give in feared that they would never join together again. Isolation was what Ignis feared most of all, and it snuffed out the rest of his lingering frustration. Now of all days they could not afford to feel alone. Ignis could not carry this to his grave when it crawled closer and closer with each day.</p><p>Since his rebuke, Ignis had not heard a word from him. In the morning they had slept in separate compartments and Gladio had visited before breakfast to make sure that he was well. It was awkward, as it had often been since Ignis had gained his scars, and there was a ghostlike touch to his waist as Gladio squeezed through the door. It brushed so softly Ignis thought he had imagined it – but now he was not so sure. Ignis had dressed himself in the silence and stood presentable, he had thought, proud to have finally been permitted to dress without hovering hands. Gladio simply watched and breathed, shuffling back and forth, leather creaking. Ignis imagine his well-trained eyes upon Ignis’ fumbling hands, restraining the urge to sweep in and sort his clumsily done buttons for him. Even when Ignis fumbled and swore, Gladio allowed him to take the lead.</p><p>At the time Ignis had taken it as progression. Now he was not so convinced.</p><p>Leather creaked. Two worn hands cupped his cheeks and the thumbs rest beneath Ignis’ sightless eyes, caressing the soft skin with wonderful sweetness. Ignis had missed such contact sorely. His skin had starved. “Igs,” Gladio said and his voice was miserably thick. “Igs…”</p><p>“Gladio,” he called again, and the weariness abruptly fled as dawning fear set in. Something must have been wrong. A rush of anxiety prickled his skin and his hands found Gladio’s thick wrists, seeking his steady pulse for comfort. “What is it?”</p><p>Both beneath their bodies and in their minds the world quaked. Ignis clung uselessly to his hands and Gladio’s breathing was laborious. The stench of beer was upon his breath but Ignis knew he wasn’t drunk – one of his favourite parts of his lover was how soppy and affectionate he became, no matter how few beers he had drank. He could often be louder than Ignis could bear, but the kisses soothed his migraine well. “How are you feeling?”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Ignis lied and made to hurriedly sit up. It was awkward – it was a tricky thing to avoid hitting his head upon the metal slats of the upper bunk. The bunks were even smaller than Ignis had thought. “Is there something wrong?”</p><p>“No,” Gladio admitted, but then paused. “Yes.”</p><p>Worry drew his skin uncomfortably tight. His brows furrowed and Ignis swung his legs out of bed. The floor was chilly against his bare feet. “Is it the boys? Is it Noctis?”</p><p>“They’re fine,” Gladio responded and a little frustration bled through. Even so his touch remained gentle, holding Ignis close. A thumb brushed away a loose strand of hair. “I just… needed to come see you. Needed to hear your voice.”</p><p><em>Sweet thing,</em> he wanted to murmur. <em>My greatest treasure</em>. Gladio had been a part of him for so very long that it seemed impossible that Ignis could touch him, feel him, and not know his innermost thoughts. Ignis had long prided himself on his uncanny instincts, the close-knit bonds he had forged, how he knew those he loved inside out. Fate had served him a cruel hand and the realisation that all his carefully cultivated knowledge meant little in the face of his blindness was true pain – he couldn’t even find Gladio’s sweet, warm eyes to seek the truth. All he could cling to was his voice.</p><p>Despite the world and path that he had been born to walk, Gladio was the gentlest man that Ignis had the pleasure of knowing. So sweet to his sister, kindly to all those in need, and so often patient with their wayward charge. He prided himself on such qualities and Ignis had swiftly fallen in love with him for his beautiful heart. Such anger was unbecoming and unlike him, and Ignis bit back the danger of his own wrath. Fire against fire left only ashes.</p><p>Ignis knew all too well how it looked with Noctis. A peacekeeper such as himself was not necessarily a fool – something Gladio should have long since known. Noctis’ will and power lay dormant, stifled by fear and uncertainty. It would take time to awaken. Time they no longer had. Gladio’s anger was certainly warranted – but such brutality –</p><p>It was unlike him. So much so that Ignis refused to let his own pain become his weapon, pushing aside the warring complexities of his fear and ire in order to heal all that had been harmed. There had been too much anger. Too much hurt. They could stomach no more. “Tell me what bothers you,” he requested, letting his hand slide down to stroke across Gladio’s bicep.</p><p>Through it all Ignis’ deepest wish was to hold Gladio close. Above all else he hated that he was no longer sure if he would be accepted with open arms. All his life Ignis had loathed uncertainty and being torn from Gladio left him reeling.</p><p>A remarkably soft sigh met his ears. So gentle, Ignis wasn’t sure if he had dreamt it. If it was, Ignis had never known a dream so alluring. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>Ignis wished with all of his heart that he might see Gladio’s honey eyes again. His dreams had not yet been so kind. “Gladio, I-”</p><p>“I’m sorry, Ignis,” he said again, interrupting softly. The thickness in his throat remained and warbled dangerously. “I know… I know it doesn’t take away what I said. What I did. I stand by my intentions, but I hurt you.” Gladio’s air left his lungs harshly, stumbling on his exhale. “I never wanted to do that. Ever. I’m so sorry, Ignis.”</p><p>There were dozens of things he could have said. There were hundreds of things he wanted to say. Each of them were far beyond his grasp and each dizzier than the last. “Ah,” he barely managed to say and swallowed hard. Words were so rarely beyond him and the feeling was uncomfortable. “It’s alright.”</p><p>“It’s not alright,” Gladio told him firmly. “I was an asshole.”</p><p><em>Yes, you were – and so was Noct.</em> Neither atrocity cancelled out the sins of the other and the truth did not yet bear speaking. Apologies were difficult to pry from either of them when they thought they were in the right, two men more alike then they perhaps wanted to admit at times, and Ignis would accept whatever resolution he could. He took his opportunity before it closed off to him forever, leaning his head into one of Gladio’s large and perfectly warm hands. “Thank you for your apology. It means a great deal to me.”</p><p>Attempting to imagine Gladio’s own torment was utterly impossible. There was simply too much loss in too short a time. Ignis had to forgive him. There was never a choice – Ignis’ heart called endlessly for Gladio. Gladio had suffered so much grief and faced an uncertain future, with his father dead and home lost, and Ignis still had his family by his side, waiting at home for word of their glorious victory. He prayed he would not disappoint them, to see them again with bright smiles, and Gladio no longer shared that luxury. Gladio’s pain was turbulent, deeply personal, and both he and Noctis dealt with their pain in different and complex ways. It was a burden they all would share in time. Ignis could only reach out to them both and pray they trusted in his hands.</p><p>“I just…” Gladio began, seeking to put a voice to his pain, and faltered in the face of such a monumental task.</p><p>Expression and heart both softening, Ignis traced what his fingers knew would be black ink. In the years before that had been Ignis’ greatest comfort. Gladio’s blessed dark skin, the shadows etched deep, the wings of a noble predator. Ignis could only wish that Gladio could find their liberation. “What is it?”</p><p>As he bowed his head to rest against Ignis’, his hair tickling Ignis’ temple, his breath left his overworked lungs in a terrible shudder. He squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced. “It should have been me,” he declared. “I should have been the one to suffer.”</p><p>Ice froze his blood solid. Ignis refused it, shaking his head and cupping Gladio’s hands with his own. “Gladio-”</p><p>“It’s my damn job,” he interrupted, and his throat was ruined. Bitter words cut as deep as shattered glass. “You guide us. I endure what gets thrown at us. It fucks me up that I wasn’t there for you – and then I treated you like the problem. Like godsdamn shit.”</p><p>The pain in Ignis’ heart rivalled the ache in his trembling body. His chest constricted and the wild water rushed in his ears. “I understand,” Ignis told him gently, even if the shame and fear still possessed his fragile human heart. “And I forgive you. There’s nothing to fear, Gladio – we can leave it all in the past, as long as we are kind to each other from this moment forward.”</p><p>Gladio pulled away again and the way he fiercely shook his head was disorientating. Still Ignis clung on, refusing to let go of his lover’s hands. “But what if we can’t,” he insisted, and Ignis might have laughed at him if he carried the bravery. That was his Gladio – as stubborn as an anak, even when he sorely needed the lifeline being cast to him. “The reason I left to go fight the Blademaster – I was so arrogant, and I thought I could prove to myself that – Igs, if I can’t protect you, what good am I? Why am I even here?”</p><p>The struggle was a tale as old as time. Gladio’s doubt had been born of the great pressure bequeathed to him – an Amicitia served only one purpose, and only one ruler. One day Gladio would die, likely in service of the crown, and he trained endlessly to endure all. But Amicitia children were sons and daughters long before they were shields. A heart before a weapon, and Ignis had not fallen in love with the shield. Above all else he loved Gladio, the man who stood proud and strong even as his title attempted to strip away his humanity.</p><p>Often Gladio had struggled against his fate. Ignis had fought with his own burden. Not for the childhood that had unfairly been stolen from him, but for the thought that one day his lover may face a premature and violent end. But they clung to the knowledge that before death they would be blessed with life.</p><p>It was a sobering thought that Gladio had circled back around his confidence to doubt his own power.</p><p>There was a tremor wracking his body. Ignis steadied himself by settling a hand across Gladio’s chest. A fearful heart pounded against the cage of his ribs, desperate to meet Ignis halfway. “Gladiolus,” he said mournfully.</p><p>“I’m not fit to serve,” Gladio said, and sobbing filled the tiny compartment. The tears fell freely, soaking Ignis’ last good shirt through. Ignis detested the thought of red rimmed eyes and Gladio’s downturned mouth, expression torn with despair. Most of all he hated how he couldn’t find Gladio’s face well enough to lave him with the kisses he longed to provide. “I’m – I’m useless. I’m a fucking failure.”</p><p>“No,” Ignis murmured, drawing him as close as he could. One hand remained on his chest and the other threaded into Gladio’s tight braids, unkempt and wild but one of their greatest comforts that Ignis had ever known. “You’re not. Don’t say that.”</p><p>“Isn’t it true? I’ve let you all down – again and again.” Gladio sniffled. Ignis was no longer sure which of them shook as if touched by wicked frost. Smoothing every stray tangle busied his hands and Ignis inhaled Gladio’s familiar musk eagerly. He thought again of the malboro, ignoring the sourness upon his skin. “Noct hates me. The way that he looks at me now. I can’t stand it.”</p><p>“Oh, Gladio, that’s not true.” Even if Ignis could not hold himself together, or the whole world, he would make his brothers whole again. They were all he could cling to. “We’re each under extraordinary stress. Noctis will grow into his grief soon – and he will understand.”</p><p>“I just want,” Gladio began, and struggled amongst his own darkness. There was something unspoken that refused to come free. Ignis could feel the desperation and shame held within his creaking bones and he curled his arms around Gladio’s shoulders. “I just want each of us to talk again. I hate this. I want everything to be okay.”</p><p>It wasn’t what he wanted to say. Ignis sensed something different, still dormant. For now, it would do. “So do I,” Ignis admitted easily. “With time it will come. I promise you.”</p><p>Unsteady hands found themselves upon Ignis’ waist. There were still dark bruises and even the most gentle contact stung. Ignis didn’t breathe a word. Gladio carried enough of their burdens. “I love you,” he said, and his voice cracked. “Do… could you still love me, after all of this?”</p><p>For a moment Ignis was winded with the harsh blow. Words lie beyond him and every muscle drew taut. He clung to Gladio and stared into nothingness; lips parted. The ground was gone from beneath his feet and even just a few moments of silence was too much rejection for Gladio to take. Their hearts beat out of time.</p><p>Immediately he pulled away. A horrible gasping breath filled the compartment, like the rattle of a dying man. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice ruined. “I shouldn’t have-”</p><p>Before he could sink any further into despair Ignis seized him. He tugged him back into loving arms until his half lay in his lap. “Of course I do,” he said fiercely.  The very idea of his love questioned set a new rage within his chest, flames scalding his heart. The knowledge that Gladio had been left hurting and confused sank claws into his flesh.<strong> “</strong>I love you with all of my heart – never doubt that. If anything in this world is absolute, let it be my love for you.”</p><p>For the first time in years Gladio allowed Ignis to cradle him as if he were a child. He had done the very same for Ignis all those weeks back, with the fall of their home splayed across the papers – clutched him closely and silently wept with their chests together, legs tangled in sheets and their bodies a mess of scars, old and new. Now it was Ignis’ turn to knit the fraying threads together again. He kissed Gladio’s head, taking in the heat of his skin and coarse familiarity of his hair. “I love you, you great lump. That will never change.”</p><p>Gladio’s hand brushed against Ignis’ bicep as he reached to scrub at his swollen eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said, shuddering still. “Thank you – thank you, I was… lost, thinking about us.”</p><p>“Sweet thing,” he said affectionately. While his touch was clumsy at first, he traced the bold line of Gladio’s nose with confidence, the way he always did when they were slowly drifting off together. Ignis sorely regretted that he would never see the wonderful way that Gladio’s nose would scrunch ever again. He would be content with the little bumps against his fingertip. “I will adore you always. I swear it. We’ll work through this horrid time and emerge again in the light, no matter how long it takes, no matter how hard it is.” His voice cracked, but he pushed forward. “Remember always that I love you – I hope that will you bring you the same strength your love brings me.”</p><p>Those blessed hands squeezed around his waist. “I love you,” Gladio murmured again, weak. It was all he could say whilst he shook. “I love you.”</p><p>All these years Ignis thought that Gladio’s voice was enthralling. Low and charming, boisterous and yet capable of such softness. He was perfect. The weight of him was reassuring in his arms and the chill was banished for good. All he knew was the comfort of Gladio’s warmth. “Stay with me a while,” he asked, eager to never let him go. Ignis would not make the mistake of letting Gladio slip away from him a second time. Neither would be able to bear the doubt it fed.</p><p>Gladio hesitated a moment. He pulled out of Ignis’ arms slowly, reluctantly. His fingers curled into Ignis’ belt loops. “Is there space?”</p><p>“I’ll make space,” Ignis assured him, and Gladio finally gave a weary, huffed laugh.</p><p>It was awkward to shuffle up together. Even with Ignis cowed against the wall there was still insufficient space for two grown men. Gladio swore against Ignis’ chest when he had to curl up his knees simply to lay comfortably. But Ignis moulded himself around his lover, eager to make it work. Threading their hands together they settled and sighed, and Ignis rest his head over Gladio’s broad chest, seeking his heartbeat. The lingering scent of the cavern no longer mattered. It was their warmth and adoration that they eagerly clung to.</p><p>“I love you,” Gladio breathed, faint into the quiet. All they could hear was the rumbling of the train and the silence in the hallway, their own low breathing filling Ignis’ ear and inspiring his imagination.</p><p>Straining up, Ignis lifted his head to lightly kiss Gladio’s scruffy chin. His beard had begun to grow out of control and Ignis found he didn’t mind the change. It tickled and made him smile. “I love you,” he promised, eager to prove it again and again, no matter the dark days ahead.</p>
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